


from the ocean to the moon.

by allthelostsouls



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 15:35:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20798957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthelostsouls/pseuds/allthelostsouls
Summary: au; Bucky comes back from the “dead” after 5 years for a very important mission and his assigned partner turns out to be his wife. His ex-wife? His widow?





	from the ocean to the moon.

"Darling, Sometimes I think I shouldn’t let you come back. This has all gone on too long. 

It is so hard to love someone so inconstant, someone who is so often fading before my eyes. 

But I know I will always welcome your return. The way you crack open the sky to come home to me. 

It is all I can do to bathe in your brilliance. Beautiful, after all this time you still control my every move. 

I become such a monster when I miss you. Darling, it is always so dark when you’re gone.”

— _From The Ocean To The Moon_, Clementine von Radics

✭ 

« day one » 

“Mother fucker!“ 

He should’ve know it was coming. But as the air leaves his body all at once after the punch, he knows he would never be prepared to take his wife’s right hook.

"Goddamn it, woman!”

And she’s getting ready to hit him again when she hears the soft click of a handgun and feels the cold hard barrel on the left side of her back, right next to the end of her dress’ strap. So instead of punching, she screams, “You were supposed to be back four years ago!” 

“I may,“ Bucky starts once some air finds the way to his lungs and back out again, "Or may not have gotten a tiny bit lost.”

By the face she makes, he knows she’s not happy with the answer. This time he’s ready for the punch, but it doesn’t hurt any less. His hand flies to his nose and in no time he feels the blood run down his mouth and chin, slipping in between his fingers.

“Fuck,” he curses in a whisper raising the other hand in the air to calm his friend down and keep him from shooting her. “I’m okay, Drums,” he says looking right at him but the kid still moves the barrel to the back of her head as he grabs her right arm as hard as he can. "No, no, no,“ Bucky pleads, this time looking at her and trying to push his body through the pain and get to her before she does anything. But by the time he’s done thinking about moving, she already has a hold of Drums’ hand and it’s twisting it away from her. She kicks his right leg as she turns around and in no time she’s looking down at Drums who’s kneeling giving his back to her with his arm bent over, his fingers almost touching the back of his neck.

"Aw,” she says once she’s finally able to see the guy’s face and notice the other one a few feet away from them, his gun in between his hands pointing at her chest. “Look at them; so young and willing to get themselves killed.”

“How do you know this bitch?” The new guy scolds.

And Bucky answers with something that’s too close to a laugh for her liking, “She’s my widow.”

“Holy shit,” he answers and throws his hands in the air, almost as if he was the one being threatened. “My bad, Mrs. Barnes.“

"Mrs. Barnes?” She asks, her eyebrows as high as they could go, looking at Bucky. She’s almost laughing now and it makes her accent thicker. She takes a step back and for everyone’s surprise, she’s helping Drums up to his feet and to walk inside the house. Even after she’s on the other side of the door frame, Bucky can still hear her laugh alongside a, “_Mrs. Fucking Barnes_.“

"That looks like it hurts,” the other guy says looking down at Bucky, who is trying to clean the blood from his nose. The guy hands him a napkin from the burger joint they had stopped at a few hours ago with a smug smile.

Through gritted teeth Bucky manages to say, “No… Feels like rainbows.”

The guy snorts, “And how do rainbows feel, Bucky?”

“Fucking terrible.”

✭ 

“Oh, no,” she sighs as soon as she walks inside her home and sees Maria and Stark walking in through the back door, pushing past her dog after petting his head twice. “No way.”

“Sorry, darling,“ Stark mumbles approaching her, he squeezes her shoulders and tells her that Bucky will clue her in with everything she needs.

Maria hands over her a folder with all the extra information she’ll need and looking right at the SHIELD agent, she grunts, “Do you have any idea of how I’m feeling about this?”

“No,“ Maria replies as an apology. "And if I’m being honest, I don’t really want to know. Must be hell inside your head right now.”

Stark looks back at Bucky, amused, and then leans over to whisper in her ear, “Mean right hook you got there, by the way.”

Maria is still apologizing and trying to make excuses for herself. The best she can come up with is; “It’s Bucky,” she shrugs. “This is important and I need someone I can trust with him.”

“Welcome back from retirement,” Tony adds smirking, and her body tenses. “No worries, your office looks exactly how you left it.”

From the corner of her eye she sees Bucky taking a step closer, thinking about what to say.

“No,” she spits pointing at him, stopping the words from coming out of his open mouth. “I don’t wanna hear it just yet. I’d probably knock the teeth right out of your mouth if you try to talk to me right now.”

“This is important,” Tony steps in, all trace of amusement gone from his voice. There’s almost a frown on his face, his hands buried in his pockets. “We wouldn’t be here otherwise.” 

“I’m sorry, you’re going to have to find somebody else.”

“_Please_,” Maria mumbles, hiding her hands behind her back as if refusing to take the folder back from her hands. “Before you kick us out, look inside.”

And she does. She opens the folder with a huff, her eyes moving around the paper until she finds what she’s looking for: the profile on the person who’s been taken. She swallows hard, looking between Maria and Tony, and back to the papers in her hands. She can’t help but curse low, because she’s holding the profile of one of the few people in the world who she would do this for: 

Nicholas J Fury.

✭ 

Maybe leaving her unreliable ex-husband with two even more unreliable kids at her house isn’t the best idea but she needs to get some air and talk herself out of committing murder. She walks to the little café around the block and asks for some ice for her hand. The waitress does as she’s told and nods at her before rushing off to get her a cup of coffee as well. Not long after she’s settled, Wanda falls into the seat right in front of her. She looks around at the people in the tiny place, making sure her hat and sunglasses are in the proper place, and when she feels comfortable enough, she leans over to her and whispers, “Guess who just got back in town?” 

And she doesn’t say a word, she just removes the ice from her hand and raises her broken knuckles for Wanda to see. The secretive smile falls from her face but soon enough an impressed one takes its place. Realization and understanding dawns on her face, and she gives Wanda a condescending look as she watches her mouth fall open. 

“Please tell me you’re lying.”

“Don’t I wish I was.”

Wanda laughs a little and asks for a cup of coffee for herself when the waitress comes back with a new bag of ice. She thanks her and then thanks Wanda for changing the ice and placing it so gently over her hand again.

“How is he?”

“Despite popular demand, he’s still alive and well,” she fake smiles at her. “I might’ve broken his nose, though.”

With a smile creeping back to the corners of her mouth, Wanda replies, “Can’t believe I missed it.“

"Shut up,” she laughs. “It’s probably healed by now, anyway.”

✭ 

She’s still not ready to talk when she gets back to her house. She kisses her dog’s head longer than usual just to stall—just so she can get one last chance to prepare herself and to pray for some strength and patience.

It all goes to hell once she reaches her living room and sees the two kids arguing over popcorn and Bucky falling asleep on the couch. There’s all kinds of snacks on her center table, a half-eaten sandwich and an empty bottle of wine.

“I see you made yourselves right at home.”

Faster than she imagined, both boys are standing right in front of her all puffed up and with their heads held high. She laughs a little and surprises herself as she relaxes her shoulders and takes a deep breath.

“At ease, solders,” she jokes, and both of them stand in resting position as if they were indeed soldiers lined up, making her think back on her days in the army. “There’s a guest room upstairs if any of you want to use it. You should probably check with grandpa over there, though. There’s extra blankets and pillows in the closet.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Drums replies with a single nod. Their posture is more relaxed but their hands are still behind their backs as if they needed to show her respect. And she’s loving it. “Sharpie and I thank you, ma’am.”

“Sharpie?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the other guy, _Sharpie_, replies. “And we wanted to apologize for what went down earlier. We didn’t know.”

“Thank you for saying that,” she answers and it should be weird having the two twenty year olds that were threatening her a couple of hours ago being so respectful and nice, but it isn’t. She sees Bucky all over them and it just makes sense that he’d do something as crazy as try to turn these reckless kids into fine gentlemen.

She gives them a half smile, catching one last glimpse of Bucky on the couch, and after an almost mute goodnight she heads upstairs, her dog by her side.

✭ 

She decides to take a bath before bed and she doesn’t notice when she falls asleep until a knock on the door makes her sit up.

“Hello?”

The air she was holding makes its way out of her body and she lets herself fall back into the water once again when she realizes it’s only Bucky at the door. It takes her another second to register that her body is shivering thanks to the now ice cold water.

“Hello?,” another knock. “Hey.”

“What?”

“I need to talk to you,” he asks, the muffled sound of his voice echoing inside the bathroom.

“Why?”

“Can you come here?”

“Uh, no?”

“Please?”

“Not until you tell me why.”

“It’s classified.”

“So? Tell me tomorrow.”

“Please. Come. Outside.”

“I’m in the bathroom!” She exclaims, getting out of the water as slow as she can so Bucky wouldn’t hear her moving. She realizes that she’s been staring at the wooden door the entire time and her body is still shivering even though her insides are burning up now for some reason she can’t quite figure out. “Can’t this wait!?”

Bucky sighs and it’s silent for a second. “Listen,” he starts then, surprising both of them. “We are going to have to be in this together, okay? At this point, doesn’t matter if you like me or if you hate me, you’re stuck with me and that’s how it’s going to be.”

She hears the footsteps as he walks away and then her bedroom door closing, and she’s not shivering anymore.

« day two » 

“Hey,” Bucky greets as he steps into the kitchen and he looks almost scared to do so. She looks up at him, a piece of toast in her mouth that she swallowed almost whole makes her cough and reach for her coffee. “You alright?”

“Not really,” she answers and her voice is forced.

And by the way her face doesn’t change after she’s able to breathe normally, he decides best not to push it. He still tries to pretend they can be normal again, that they can pick up right where they left off. Or at least he hopes so.

“No Beatles playing during breakfast today?”

She points behind him with her chin with one swift moment and he looks back to the living room at his companions still sound asleep on her couch as she says, “Didn’t want to wake them up before I had my coffee.”

Bucky dares to smile, “That wouldn’t have been good for anybody.”

The fake half smile she gives him makes his heart break. And noticing the way her hands shake as she picks up her coffee mug makes him feel heavy.

“How’s your mom?”, he asks in a desperate attempt to make things not awkward between them. “I’m surprised she hasn’t stopped by to kick my ass yet,” he jokes. And his smile drops as soon as his wife looks down at her hands and lets out a shaky breath. “Oh, no…”

He sighs as he takes a sit, his hand turning into a fist. He totally messed it up.

“Almost a year ago,” she mumbles. “The cancer came back and this time, it was everywhere. There wasn’t anything else we could do.”

“I’m so sorry, baby, I didn’t—”

“You weren’t here,” she spits as she stands up. “Of course you wouldn’t know.”

He opens his mouth again but nothing comes out. He doesn’t know what to say. And there’s really nothing he can do besides apologizing. They both know that. So they stay there, staring at each other trying to find what to say or do next for what seems like an eternity.

“I understand that you hate me now,” Bucky is the first one to try. “And you probably hate me even more because I wasn’t here for you when it happened, but you have to know how sorry I am.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she practically cuts him off. Her voice is still harsh but she’s sitting down across from him and her muscles don’t seem so tense. Her mood gets significantly better when Ace comes into the kitchen wiggling his tail and after a quick pet from her, she’s following him to the door that leads out to the garden, sliding it open for him to get out. “And I don’t hate you, James,” she adds, still holding the door open. “I just don’t love you. Not anymore.”

“What if I still love you?” He replies immediately and he hasn’t said one right thing today. At all. He raises his hand and shakes his head to stop her train of thought or any reply. He stares at the table for a while and he’s not sure she’s still there when he talks but he needs to say it anyway. Even if she doesn’t listen. “Never mind. I know you don’t want to be part of any of this,” and then, “You can get out of it if you really want to.”

There’s no reply, he only hears the door sliding shut.

« day four » 

When she comes home that night, everything changes.

She can hear Ace barking from the patio and she curses at the three delinquents staying at her house for being incapable of thinking about something or someone else besides themselves. She opens the side door that leads to the patio, and instead of jumping on her to say hello, Ace runs to the front door and tries to push it open while still barking.

She takes her gun out and keeps it low next to her as an instinct. One deep breath and one last look at her dog, and they both bust into the house, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Ace runs towards the kitchen and she’s still in the hallway, preparing herself for whatever was coming. Her back touches the wall, another deep breath and the first shot goes off as she steps into her living room and a strong pair of hands grab hers, kicking her gun to the ground. _Fuck_, she’s rusty. Still, she kicks the person in the groin and she’s free long enough to grab a fistful of his hair and knee him hard, making the blood rush out of his nose and mouth.

She hears someone curse behind her before she feels the metal entering her skin. She’s almost sure the knife is still there when she tries to turn around to see who had the fucking nerve to break into her house. And she does get to see him too before the pain starts at the back of her head and spreads all around, letting the darkness consume it all.

✭ 

When she wakes up, Drums is the first thing she sees. It’s hard for her to focus her eyesight and there’s still no sound besides her own breathing, but she knows something happened by the way the skin on his neck is bright red and his cheeks are wet. Her head falls down to the side and that’s when she sees it; Ace’s lying on his side and she swears he’s sound asleep until she sees the blood around his body and the mushy circle on top of his head. She hears it then—the screaming. She doesn’t know where it comes from but its feels appropriate. She fights Drums’ hands and pushes him away as she tries to reach her dog. Once she’s finally able to, she realizes she’s the one that has been screaming all along by the way the sounds get muffled by sobs.

The air feels tight in her chest, and her eyesight blurs again because of the tears. Soon enough she’s shaking and her face turns red and she’s incredibly dizzy. When she feels someone’s hands closing on her arms, trying to push her up, she starts screaming again. The screaming turns into words sometimes, things like _Please!_ and _you don’t understand, please!_ and _he’s Bucky’s! He’s the only thing I have left!_ until her throat burns and she’s taken out of the room.

It all goes black again.

« day six » 

Bucky’s chest feels incredibly heavy when he comes downstairs two nights later, after making sure Drums and Sharpie had settled in the guest room.

The feeling doesn’t get any better when he finds his wife laying on the floor. She’s on her side, her back turned to him, and the tears burn his eyes when he realizes that she’s next to the faded blood mark that Ace had left. If he had been there still, they’d be facing each other. And he’s never wanted to hold his wife more.

He manages to turn a sob into a sigh, and even though the sound is not as loud, she still picks up on it, making her jump out of her skin and sit up. She takes a deep breath, too, holding back the tears for as long as she can. She swallows the lump on her throat and let’s some air out of her system so she could try and speak. And all she can manage is a half broken sound that Bucky swears is something like _I’m sorry, honey_ and then he’s rushing to drop on his knees in front of her and try his best to clean her tears. He realizes soon enough is impossible so he holds her close to his chest and plays with her hair as he kisses her forehead and hairline and anything his lips could reach to try and calm her down. Her crying stops and her breathing steadies, and he holds her a little while longer. She falls asleep in his arms and it’s been so long since he’s been able to just hold her that he dares take an extra couple of minutes before he takes her upstairs to her room.

« day seven » 

When Bucky wakes up, she’s not in bed next to him.

He jumps up because he doesn’t remember falling asleep. He finds her in the kitchen, her back turned to him and he just knows. He knows that she’s looking at the hole in her yard where their dog was buried through the window. He walks towards her slowly, trying not to upset her.

“He had a beard,” she says once she feels him close enough and he stops dead in his tracks. “Blue eyes and a scar on his eyebrow. He was quite handsome, actually.”

“Darling…”

“He broke into my house. He put a gun to my face and he killed our dog. He will deserve everything he’s going to get.”

“Don’t make this personal.”

“They made it personal the second they decided it was time for you to come back into my life just to use me. Hell, it was personal the second you walked out of that door five years ago and made me believe you _actually died_. And you of all people should know that we’re not any better than them. And that the only difference between right and wrong is just who’s behind the trigger.”

“Listen to me,” he pleads holding her by the arms, forcing her to see him. “You are nothing like them, I need you to get that through your head. That dog was the other love of my life, too, but he wasn’t the last of our marriage. I promise. And I promise you they won’t get away with this. But please, baby…, I’m _begging_ you. Be smart about this.”

“Okay,“ she nods, her hands raising to rest on either side of his face once his grip loosens. He dares to interlock his fingers behind her back, just to hold her close, and he misses her so damn much. "But when the moment comes, he’s mine.”

“Okay,” he nods grumpily. Clearly not happy about the conversation they were having but certainly relieved that it was over for the moment. “Let’s go change your bandage, yeah?”

« day nine » 

They’ve been sitting out in the patio for hours now. They’ve had two bottles of wine already, have had conversations with their dog who they strongly believe is watching over them, and they’ve been trying to casually keep a light conversation between them. The sky is clear even though there had been rain in today’s forecast. There’s fireflies and a light breeze, and the promise of something good to come.

Ella Fitzgerald’s playing, and if Bucky didn’t know better, he would’ve asked her to dance with him on the grass already, maybe have those five years apart melt away. He doesn’t realize he’s been staring at her while daydreaming about having her in his arms, until he watches her bite her lips before they stretch into a tight smile.

“What is it?”

“I just—,” he shakes his head, still thinking. “I sort of thought you would be more shaken up after finding out that your husband that died five years ago is still alive.”

She looks down at her hands with a hint of a smirk but the sadness weighs heavy on her eyes, and Bucky needs to hear this story, "I’ve known you were still alive for the past four years.“

Bucky sits up immediately, his body instinctively leaning in closer.

“Fury told me on your death anniversary,” she continues, her eyes looking straight ahead, refusing to meet Bucky’s. He thinks, by the way they glisten with the light, that she’s doing everything she can to hold back her tears. “I saw you on his computer screen. He thought they were gonna be able to bring you back sooner, so he told me. I guess he was trying to ease my pain until you finally came home. The plan went to shit and you’re still dead.”

“So, when you punched me… I thought—I swear, I thought they had told you right before I got to your place.”

She shakes her head, “I guess they were hoping for a more dramatic reunion. Shake me to the core, so I wouldn’t put up a fight when they asked me to come back to work.”

Bucky is speechless. He’s confused and hurting, but he knows it’s nowhere near to how she must be feeling. Her eyes find his, and she starts laughing like a maniac. He watches her get all the laughs out until her expressions change and she can’t hide the hurt.

“For a whole year, I thought you were dead. You have any idea what that feels like?” she spits, her entire body trembling with rage. Even then, her voice is nothing but a painful whisper, “I couldn’t get out of bed for an entire month. I cried on the kitchen floor countless times because I wouldn’t hear you sing while we cooked ever again,” she shakes her head, a short sound close to half a scoff escapes her lips before continuing, “I found out you were alive through a surveillance video. You were playing poker with some scumbags, drinking and laughing.”

“No words could ever mend what I did, I know that,” he finally speaks after watching her swallow a sob. “But I am sorry I couldn’t come back sooner. I had to cut all ties so it’d be believable. I couldn’t risk putting you in danger.”

“Bucky,” she grunts, wiping the tears away from her cheeks almost violently. “I was crying on the kitchen floor because I missed your _voice_ so damn much and you were _laughing_.”

Bucky catches the few tears coming out of the corner of his eyes with his thumb before they get too far and clears his throat so he can force the words out, “I know I can’t just say I’m sorry and expect everything to be better. But I don’t regret dying for you. It’s the one good thing I’ve ever done.”

It’s quiet then.

Too quiet and for a long time, but there was no way around it. Bucky had to feel her pain, watch what he had done to her to understand the person she had to become to survive his absence. And she had to hear his apology so she could understand that this is the same Bucky from five years ago, trying his best to do the right things for the world even if it meant the worst possible scenario for himself.

The door opens behind them, making both of them sit up only to find their housemates. She relaxes back in her chair with a scoff, and Bucky darts an ugly stare at the kids, forcing them back inside with an apology.

She laughs at his face, and Bucky’s taken aback by the sound of it. God, how he missed her. 

"Where did you pick up those kids?" 

He half smiles at the memory, settling back into his chair again, “They tried to rob me." 

"Excuse me?" 

"They just jumped me one day when I was on my way out of a bar,” he shrugs. “Those two little rats where trying to look all tough. They didn’t even know how or when they ended up in the floor. And I think it was the way they were looking at me; the shame on their faces or the way their hands shook that told me they didn’t do this very often. So, I told them I’d give them their knifes back if they joined me for dinner. They didn’t look up until they were done with their first round of food. I bought them another one and that’s when I was able to get some information. And I’m telling you, honey, there’s not an evil bone in their bodies. They just got a little lost.”

The smirk on her face makes his heart race. He really did miss her.

“I always knew you were gonna be a great dad.”

Bucky could start crying all over again at that. He needs another drink, maybe to run and scream because he suddenly feels like he’s got to much energy, like he’d die if he didn’t touch her or kiss her. He digs his nails on the outside of his leg, the pain anchor him.

“I really missed talking to you, baby,” he offers then, his fingers pressing down harder. She’s still looking at him like she used to, with something close to love on the corner her smile, and five fucking years is a long time waiting for that look again. 

"I know,” she sighs, the smile fading and her eyes growing heavy. “Me too.”

Bucky sits up, pushing his body towards hers, and she follows his movement, probably thinking it’s time to come back inside. Their knees touch and neither one of them pulls away, their bodies suddenly so close, they can feel the warmth coming from each other. 

“I know I don’t deserve forgiveness,” Bucky whispers, she’s so so close. “But do I at least deserve help?”

She caresses his cheek with the tip of her fingers like she’s unable to do anything but to touch him somehow, and Bucky dares to hope.

✭ 

Later, Bucky can’t stop pacing around the living room.

“Why didn’t I kiss her?” he mumbles, running a hand trough his hair, almost pulling at it. “Why didn’t I kiss her? God, why didn’t I kiss her!?” 

Drums grunts, gesturing him to move aside so he can watch the tv, “Can you take your self loathing somewhere else?”

As Sharpie walks to the living room from the kitchen and lets himself fall next to his brother, Bucky says, “Hey, you’re up from some whiskey and self loathing?”

He puts his sandwich in his mouth for the second or two he needs his hands free to give Bucky a double thumbs up, “Count me in.”

He looses him once the tv show comes back on, so Bucky just lets himself fall in the couch, defeated. To nobody at all, he sighs, “I don’t know if it matters anymore, but I really do love her.”

« day ten » 

1:15 AM.

There’s sweat running down her forehead and the back of her neck when she wakes up. Her hands are shaking hard, and there’s a void in her chest she hasn’t feel for four and a half years. That’s right around the time she had stopped having nightmares about Bucky. She’s had bad dreams, sure, but not like these—not the wake up screaming and hysterically crying in the middle of the night type. She’s on her feet in no time, running to the living room. She feels like throwing up and her whole world spins when she doesn’t find Bucky there. Her throat is closing up and she knows she needs to get to the kitchen now or go back to bed, otherwise she’ll probably pass out right there. She sees his shadow sitting in one of the patio chairs, swinging a beer, and she head that way immediately.

“You were gone,” she whimpers but Bucky doesn’t pick up on it right away. 

“Yeah,” he replies, watching her carefully and stepping closer to her, trying to read her expressions better. It’s hard when it’s pitch black and the yellowish light from the patio is behind her head, making her edges less sharp and blending in together, “I can’t really sleep.”

“Bucky,” she shakes her head violently, pressing her lips together and her palms to her eyes to stop the tears from coming out, “You were _gone_.”

And fuck if Bucky’s heart doesn’t break the exact same moment her voice does.

He practically runs towards her, closing his arms around her body for support. It takes a while but she finally sighs and relaxes her body, allowing him to hug her. She even lets her hands fall and wrap around his torso, resting her forehead on his chest.

“Idiot,” she mumbles, her nails digging into his back in frustration. “Idiot, idiot, _idiot_.”

He closes his arms around her tighter, her voice muffled against his chest until she gives up on it, letting out a long sigh and she gets comfortable, hiding her face on his neck. Being there, feeling Bucky all around is too much for her and it doesn’t take long for the tears to flow down her cheeks unstoppable. 

“You can’t do that again,” she pleads quietly. “You can’t leave me like that again.”

“I won’t,” he promises, his lips resting against her forehead. He breathes the words against her skin quietly, “I swear, baby.”

She swallows hard, “Okay.”

Bucky pulls back enough to put both of his hands under her chin and make her look up at him. The tears won’t stop and her breathing is ragged at this point, her lungs fighting for air. Her hands are holding onto his shirt for dear life, and Bucky’s hands shake when he realizes how close she is to having a full on panic attack.

“Hey,” he shakes her body a little, forcing her to focus all her attention on him. He moves her hands up and places them flat against his chest, exaggerating his breathing in hopes that she’d follow soon after. “You feel that? My heartbeat?”

She swallows again, nodding.

“Focus on my heartbeat. It’s just for you, so focus on it,” Bucky pleads, and she nods again, opening her mouth to try her best and let the air in. ”Look at me—just breathe, okay?”

2:15 AM.

“Tell me the truth, Buck. Why now?”

“To distract us,” Buck answers. “You’ve mourned my death for five years. They watched you take flowers to my grave last week, but you’ve been out of their radar for a while which is good. It’s practically what I died for, so they would leave you alone. According to them, I don’t know about the kidnapping. So if I’m here, there’s no risk of me overhearing anything about Fury. And as the other group of super people try to find him under their watch eye, if we’re careful, we might be able to fly under their radar and have a better shot at it.”

“So, both plans are based on the fact that I’d lose my shit once I fond out you were alive, right? That I just wouldn’t be able to see past you anymore, and just do anything to be close to you? God, was it that obvious?” she scoffs before she laughs sadly at herself. “I guess it must’ve been.”

“What was?”

She looks at him in anger, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he wasn’t listening, “How much I loved you.”

3:15 AM.

It feels like it will keep raining for ages.

The cloud came out of nowhere, made a loud noise and it split open, letting the water fall unstoppable. They had barely made it inside, shaking the few drops that caught them out. They were quiet then. They were quiet all the way to her bedroom and inside her covers. They were quiet even after they were nothing but a knot of limbs and buried faces on shoulders and necks.

She doesn’t know how long it’s passed when she finally moves her head back to look up at Bucky and finds him there, waiting for her. His right hand touches her cheek a second before he leans in to kiss her forehead, the top of her nose. Her eyes flutter lazily and her hand finds its way to his chest, grabbing a handful of his shirt like she’s making sure he won’t pull away.

“Don’t leave.”

“I won’t, baby,” he whispers back. “I promise.”

And then Bucky is pulling her close to his chest again, his fingers playing with her hair as you would a child to try to calm them down, and it feels so childish and calming, she can’t help but fall for it. He’s so warm and soft, and their hips, their knees, and their shoulder are touching, and this is exactly what she’s been missing for five whole years—Bucky; being around him, having him hug her so tight to the point that it’s impossible to distinguish where she ends and he begins.

“You really hurt me,” her voice moves along the side of his neck. Her breath hitches and shakes just like her voice. “You really, really hurt me.”

“I know,” he swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think I can do this, Buck,” she sighs. “I don’t know what to do around you anymore. I don’t know if to run into your arms and cry, or if to lock in my room and cry. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say or do, or where I’m supposed to go.

“Just stay right here,” he asks, pressing his lips against her neck, he follows her jawline until he presses another kiss at the corner of her mouth. “Just stay close to me, okay?”

Bucky moves back to be able to see her face properly and they both wait. What for, though? For the rain to stop? For the sunlight? 

Her fingers close around the back of his neck, pulling him back in. She stops, thinking that she’s always the one to kiss first, to fall in love first, to get hurt first. So she decides that this time, it’s Bucky the one who needs to step up.

“Buck?”

And then he’s kissing her full on the lips for the first time in years. It’s fast and needy, but it’s everything they need at the moment. Bucky’s tongue darts out to trace her bottom lip, and the sound that escapes her, has Bucky’s blood boiling.

They have sex in a hurry. They only get half naked and their mouths touch almost the entire time. They build a rhythm almost immediately and they both come quietly, with a shudder and their nails digging into each other’s skin.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he mumbles, cleaning the tears from her eyes and trying his best to hold back his own. “So, so much.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” she replies against his mouth, her voice rough and broken, and barely there. The tears keep falling as the knot in her throat gets tighter. “I’ve been here, baby. I’ve been here, waiting for you.”

“I’m sorry,” he chants in between kisses, until they’re both dizzy and breathless.

They take it slow this time. They make a thing out of getting naked, moving lazily and kissing as much exposed skin as possible, relearning each other’s bodies. There’s hands and lips everywhere, and promises of never leaving.

12:15 PM.

“We received an invitation,” Bucky says on the phone as he steps into the kitchen. His wife looks back at him over her shoulder, a playful smile at the corner of her lips. She turns back to the sandwich she’s making and Bucky presses himself against her, resting his chin on her shoulder and wrapping his around her front to press the phone in between their ears, letting her hear Maria at the other end of the line mumble a quick mhm? back at him. “Apparently it’s some sort of birthday celebration and the guy who took Fury is gonna be there. We might be able to eavesdrop or find something out. Even if things go south, we might still have a shot at this.”

There’s a pause, “You’ll be alone in this.”

“We know,” Bucky answers. “We’ll be fine.”

“You know the protocol for extraction.”

“I do.”

“Good luck,” is the last thing Maria mumbles before the line goes dead.

Bucky kisses his wife’s shoulder as he steps away and she’s not at all surprised when he crushes the phone with his right hand before throwing it in the trash. 

“I guess we get to play dress up today,” Bucky muses.

“Then you and the kids are gonna need a haircut,” she jokes, taking a bite of her sandwich. Once she swallows, she adds, “Good luck with that.”

9:15 PM.

When she walks into her living room that night, Bucky’s hands start shaking and his new temporary phone slips out of them. He catches it right on time before it gets anywhere near the ground, and takes a deep breath, trying to keep his cool.

She does a better job at hiding how affected she was by her husband.

They stare at each other for the longest time, and it’s not until Drums walks in that they realize they’ve been standing there for that long.

“Wow,” is all he says, his eyes never leaving her. He swallows and fixes his hair before he fixes his tie, trying to find the right words. “Red looks really good on you, Mrs. Barnes.”

“Thank you,” she smiles and grabs him by the arm, motion him to walk out with her. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

And Bucky wants to push him away from her and slap the back of his head for being so forward, but then he just smiles big because she didn’t correct him when he said Mrs., and something about it makes his heart swallow up on his chest. He figures, after five years, he’s allowed to feel like a schoolgirl if it has to do with her.

“Alright,” Bucky says following them out the door. “Let’s crash this party.”

10:15 PM.

“Happy birthday, John” Bucky says, a smug smile on his face that matches her own grin.

The man looks down on Bucky, “Who the hell let you in here?”

She tenses on the spot and her heart stops for a second. It’s not until they start cracking up that she can relax again, and she’s so amused by all of this. She smiles bright at her target when he finally looks at her for more than a second.

“And who is this beautiful woman?” John asks Bucky, even though his eyes never leave her. He leans closer to her and adds quietly, “And what are you doing with a loser like him?”

“She’s my wife.”

“I’m his widow,” she jokes right after, accepting his handshake.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” John chuckles, looking at Bucky only for a second to give him look of approval. “You’re nothing like I expected.”

“I know,” she smiles. “I’m sorry I keep ruining everyone’s whore-wife fantasy.”

“Oh, darling, looking like you do, there’s no apology needed,” he mumbles and looks at her in a way that makes her blush and Bucky close his arm around her, in a desperate try to fulfill his desire of claiming her as his.

Something seems to catch John’s eye behind her, and he does his best to not let his smile waiver. He takes his time to look at them carefully, making sure he’s got all of their attention. “Enjoy yourselves.”

Another charming smile and he’s gone.

“Who would’ve thought drug dealers could be so charming,” she mumbles, looking back at Bucky just to find him already looking at her with a painful expression on his face. Her smile fades almost immediately and her hand finds Bucky’s chest, wondering what’s wrong.

“You do look beautiful tonight,” he whispers and just because he can’t help himself he leans down and kisses her cheek. And she’s going to ruin it, both know it by the way she looks down and bites the inside of her mouth. So to save her from herself he adds, “C’mon, if we’re lucky, we might be able to at least find some drugs.”

“My kind of party,” she mumbles back and they’re back on track.

11:15 PM

“There you are,” Bucky says, stepping into the dark room. “I was starting to get worried.”

“Sorry,” she replies with a half smile that doesn’t quite reaches her eyes. 

Bucky’s careful not to bump into anything in the dark as he makes his way to the window. He stands next to her as close as they possibly can without actually touching, and looks straight ahead just like she is. He looks at her reflection in the glass and when he feels his knees weaken, he follows her gaze to the people out in garden dancing, talking, laughing.

“Not as easy as I thought it would be,” he mumbles and she’s already staring at him when he raises his gaze back to his wife’s reflection.

She waits and Bucky lets out a sigh along with a sad smile and she can’t help but feel like screaming as Bucky starts playing with his wedding ring, twisting it around his finger over and over and over. She swallows and very slowly, hoping he wouldn’t notice, she locks her hands in front of her, intertwining her fingers, suddenly too aware of the weight of her own ring on her finger.

“I look at you,” he starts, “and I try to see the nice, lovely girl I was in love with when I left, who I was hoping would be here when I got to fly back home. But all I see now is a scary and provocative woman who has nothing to do with the twenty-five-year-old I once knew or the twenty-eight-year-old I once married.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you thought I’d do nothing but make pies and look cute while waiting for you to come back,” she hisses. “Something inside of you changes when you’re abandoned, and there’s no way to change it back.”

Bucky shakes with emotion, “But you were waiting. You’ve been waiting all this time.”

And it happens before any of them is able to react. They were so wrapped up in each other they didn’t see them coming. They fought back until gunshots went off. She finally stops screaming and cursing and all type of movement when the gun is lowered to Bucky’s temple. The hot barrel making him flinch and she closes her fist in anger and defeat when she realizes there’s at least two more guns pointing at Bucky’s head and three more at his heart.

She pushes the hair away from her face and fixes her dress and, “Alright, then,” and she starts walking towards the door, two sets of hands closing around her arms guiding her through the darkness and into the light.

« day eleven » 

“We’ve been in this van for two hours,” Drums grunts. “Where the hell are they taking us?”

“Quiet!” the man yells in Drums’ ear, his face red and the veins in his neck popping out.

She’s sitting across from Bucky, Sharpie on her right, and then a fat guy with a gun. Drums squirms next to Bucky, trying to put some distance between him and another fat guy.

Bucky moves forward, extending his tied hands towards his wife. And she’s so curios about the thick metal, wrapped around Bucky’s wrist, that she meets him halfway, intertwining their fingers the best way they can. What could be so strong to be able to hold him?

“Are you alright?” he whispers, his eyes staring at the small cut on her lip. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I’m fine,” she half-smiles tightly. “Not all of us can heal freakishly fast.”

Bucky chuckles quietly, and then the two man are pushing Drums and Sharpie out of the way to sit next to them. One of them pushes Bucky’s back against the wall and the other one closes his hand around her throat.

“You guys think this is a couple’s retreat or something?” the man mumbles against her ear, closing his hand around her neck tighter. “Shut. The fuck. Up.”

The man lets go of her and her body shoots forward as she gasps for air. She’s staring at Bucky’s shoes, counting backwards in her head. She takes one last deep sigh, and very slowly moves her body back to sitting position, her hands closed in fists. It takes all of her power not to punch back. She needs to stay calm for now, they have to let them think they’re winning—they have a plan they need to follow.

✭ 

They’ve been in the room for about twenty minutes now.

It’s only the two of them; Drums and Sharpie had been taken to the next building. The place they were taken to almost looks like an abandoned business center; there’s three two story buildings facing each other, a cut out tree and dead grass in the giant triangle between the buildings that used to have green life. There’s abandoned benches, a dirty water fountain, and a rusty vending machine.

The room doesn’t have any windows, and the door seems to have been replaced for a metal one, the kind you’d see in prisons and mental hospitals, with a small opening for food at the bottom of it and a small opening at the top, big enough to see at least half of someone’s face. She’s a little impressed that they took their time to redecorate the damn place.

Bucky gets her attention, his eyes drifting to his left hand, his fingers moving softly so she’d focus on them. They’re sitting next to each other, facing the door, both of them tied by their ankles and wrists to the heavy metallic chairs, screwed to the floor. She locks eyes with Bucky and then looks down at his hand again when he nods towards it again; his index finger moving up and down quickly, and laying flat on the armrest sometimes to mark a stop. She picks up on it immediately: it’s morse code. He quickly reminds her of the protocol for extraction Maria had talked about earlier on the phone and she nods once in his direction, letting him know she got the message. He then says they need a distraction, something to get them inside and get the plan moving. She smiles devilish like she’s been waiting for it for ever, and after dramatically clearing her throat, she starts yelling at him.

“You’re so full of shit!”

“You’ve known that all along, baby,” he replies with a shrug. “And you still decided to marry me.”

“Biggest mistake of my life.”

“It was,” he agrees, his voice is low and husky. “I shouldn’t have asked you. I shouldn’t have believed the fantasy that we could be together—that we could be _happy_ together.“

And she sees it on his face. He’s not lying, but he’s a little worried and desperate and ready to get the hell out of there, and even though she hadn’t seen him in years, she can still read him. So with tears in her eyes she whimpers, “You’re lying to me right now.”

And he smiles, clearly impressed, almost laughs actually, but suddenly he doesn’t have enough air in his lungs to pull it off. “I guess some things never change, huh? Yes, I loved you,” he says and it’s the truth. “But I don’t anymore,” he swallows and it’s a lie.

“James, you piece of shit,” she shakes her head, squeezing her eyes hard. “I shouldn’t have let you come back. What am I supposed to tell the kids now?”

It takes Bucky a second, just one, to pick up on what she had just said and he mumbles, “I don’t know, whatever you told them last time I left—daddy’s saving the world, daddy is lost, daddy doesn’t love you anymore.”

And she’s about to spit out some curse words on his face when the door opens and a man wearing a blue suit walks in saying, "Now, how’s that for marriage counseling?”

She smiles big and the man chuckles.

The fire in her eyes then has Bucky saying, “You’re in trouble, big guy.”

And the man in the suit laughs some more, “C’mon, the boss wants to see you.”

The man starts by untying Bucky’s feet for the chair but still tying them together with the same thick metal she had seen around his wrists earlier. Bucky didn’t even try to break free and she’s confused because the man should’ve been on the ground by now. Bucky looks back at her as he’s forced out of the room and winks at her with a wicked smile. He’s letting her have all the fun. Outside the room, there’s a man waiting on the hallway, wearing a gray suit, and he lets his hand fall heavy on Bucky’s shoulder. He gives his coworker a nod, and the man in blue goes back inside to get her. Bucky sees her laughing, and knows this won’t take long.

Only two minutes pass by when the door opens again and his wife smiles big at him while fixing her hair. The man in the gray suit is stunned, and by the time he tries to raise his gun, Bucky has already elbowed his nose, his unconscious body falling to the floor with a loud thud.

“Was that a gift?” she ventures, working on untying Bucky’s ankles.

She hears a grunt and then the thick metal around Bucky’s wrist practically splits in two, freeing himself effortlessly. She looks up at him and licks her lips, inviting.

“We have to get the kids,” he reminds her, his voice shaking. “And Fury.”

She bites her lip like she’s thinking about it, and scoffs as he helps her up.

“Maybe later then.”

Getting to the second floor is a breeze. She picks up a gun and a silencer along the way and she was prepared to deal with more men, but she only runs into five. Looks like the party is somewhere else. She finds a spot in the window that gives her clear view of the building where Drums and Sharpie are, and she watches Bucky run by one of the windows already inside that building. There’s the same amount of men there so getting their boys out is even easier for him. He follows them out of the building and they use the darkness to come back to where she is so they can talk over a plan. Bucky’s following the kids in a hurry and then, out of nowhere, there’s a shadow behind him, quietly raising their gun.

“Behind you,” she whispers to Bucky but he’s too far away.

Without thinking about it, she shoots the shadow and it’s the sound of the man falling that has Bucky looking behind him. He looks up, looking for his wife in the darkness, and smiles up at the building.

“That’s my girl.”

✭ 

She pushes the double door open with all she’s got, making them hit against the walls and bounce back a little. The room goes silent and when she lets herself fall in the chair right in front of John, he lets the breath he was holding out in half a chuckle. It only grows as the seconds pass by, and he’s full on cracking up when she rests her elbow on his desk and her cheek on her palm. “How can we help you?”

“Oh, boy,” he keeps laughing and suddenly she’s smiling big, too, holding the laughs herself. “You high or something?”

“I might be,” she lets herself chuckle a little as well. “Or my balls might be bigger than yours.“

That cuts his laugh all together and his stare hardness. He nods once at the man on his right and as he steps closer to her, Bucky steps in between them, not letting him get anywhere near her.

"Nobody touches her,” Bucky growls, staring down at the man in front of him before he looks at John, who’s clenching his jaw in anger. “Nobody.”

John motions the man to stand back and Bucky only moves when the man is back into his place, his hands behind his back.

“Very bold of you to just barge in here like this.”

“Thank you, it was my idea,” she calls out with a bright smile, crossing her legs and getting comfortable in her seat. John has never seen anything like her in his entire life, he smirks at Bucky—_that lucky bastard_—before he starts laughing, thinking to himself that for all he knows, he might’ve just fallen in love. “Since we’re not dead or even hurt yet, that tells me that you want something from us. Actually, that you need something from us. So how about you start talking, hm?”

“You are absolutely right, my darling, I do need something,” he pauses as he gets up from his chair and walks around the desk slowly. His gaze moves from Drums and Sharpie to Bucky and then back to her. He sits at the edge of his desk, facing her, and gets comfortable by burying his hands in his pockets. “There’s a shipment coming in,” he continues. “Some personal stuff, don’t need to ask. It’s scheduled to arrive at four in the morning, almost two hours from now. I need to make sure if gets where it needs to go without a hitch. The police and the Avenging kids have kept an eye on us for a while, but now that we have their Director of the organization and well, you two, we might have some bargaining room, don’t you think?”

“That’s it?” Bucky scoffs.

“For now,” John replies calmly. “I know you might not be very fond of Fury, but I’m sure your wife will be a compelling enough reason for you to do what I need you to do and come right back here without any funny business.”

All eight of his men in the room move towards them immediately with their guns up, ready to shoot, just waiting for the order. Bucky lets out a growl and doesn’t miss the way Sharpie takes a step behind Drums, hiding his shaky hands behind his brother. 

“Calm down, alright?” Bucky calls out, taking a step too close towards John, getting all of their attention. He puts his hands up in the air to show he doesn’t mean any harm but still glares at John, “I need her with me for this.”

“No, you don’t,” John refutes. “She stays here. You can take the boys if you’d like, though.”

“Yes, I do. You can do anything you want, okay? I’ll help you do this and anything else you want me to do, I don’t care. You know my word’s good, just… just don’t take her away from me.” 

John snorts with a half a smile, “That woman will kill you if you give her the chance. Best you get rid of her before she gets rid of you.”

Bucky looks back at her and any other time, her face would’ve made him split in two with laughter. But he keeps his cool, even after watching her roll her eyes and throw her arms up in exasperation. 

“You do know that’s my wife you’re talking about, right?”

“You two sound more like a married couple than Bucky and I do,” she grumps quietly, crossing her arms with a huff.

“Sorry, Buck, but I need you focused,” he shrugs ignoring her, walking back around the desk to sit on his chair. He motions for her to be moved and two of the men step closer to grab her arms and force her to stand up from the chair. “I’ll keep her alive until the sun comes up, I can at least promise you that.” 

He moves his hand again and the men are forcing her to move towards the doors. As she walks past Bucky, she shoots him a wink that calms his heart only a bit, and he’s more than ready to be done with all of this.

“Alive is not good enough,” Bucky growls, taking another step closer to John. “If any of your men hurt her in any way, I _will_ kill them, I promise _you_ that.”

✭ 

The shipment is coming in through the water.

The leader of the goons John had sent Bucky with starts barking orders once they make it to the harbor. There’s lines and lines of boats of all shapes and sizes down the docks; there’s even more container stocked up in endless lines. It’s quiet. Too quiet, Bucky thinks. The darkness feels thicker, and he watches the light breaking through, hanging from the small dirty poles. Once the man stops talking, Bucky sighs, taking a hold of his shoulder so he wouldn’t be able to move.

“No, we need to go around,” Bucky says through gritted teeth, his hands closing into fists. "They’re probably watching, we need to avoid the cameras to avoid any set backs until the shipment gets here. We’ll take down the surveillance then, but not right now.”

“No—“

The man swallows his words the second Bucky’s fist shatters his jaw. He falls on the floor with a quiet thud, his eyes losing focus until he’s completely out. Bucky lets out a sigh, enjoying the few seconds of silence it takes the rest of the crew to recover from what just happened.

“Buck, I don’t think you can just knock out anyone who disagrees with you,” Drums mumbles quietly, looking back at John’s men, who seem to be debating on what to do next. 

They know Bucky will get the job done, and they know he can do it on his own, and they know he can take them out in a matter of seconds. So they stay put and they stay quiet, awaiting for orders.

“That’s exactly what I can do,” he grins hard. “There’s not a chance in hell I’ll let anything happen to my wife because of these idiots.”

✭ 

It takes all of her strength not to scream.

Her head stays low on her left side and everything hurts. It hurts to move, it hurts when she spits the blood gathering in her mouth, it hurts to breathe. She tries to swallow the taste of iron and grunts, “You’ll pay for this.” 

John chuckles once, looking down at her in amusement as he cleans her blood out of his fingers, “Please. Don’t fool yourself, little girl. I’m starting to believe he might’ve left you here to die, don’t you? The sun is already coming up and he hasn’t showed up yet.”

John puts his handkerchief back into his pocket and she’s gotta give it to him, the man does have impeccable taste—his suit is perfectly neat and his hair’s brushed back every time she’s seen him. She lets some of the blood gather in her mouth and spits it right at his chest, making him look down at his shirt in disgust. His face turns red and he doesn’t even try to clean the blood off his clothes, he just takes his jacket off and rolls up his sleeves as if getting ready for a hard job. He waves off the man next to her and he takes a couple of steps back, giving him room to work.

“You’re persistent, I give you that,” he points out, amused. He walks slowly, taking four steps to the right before he turns around and takes the same amount of steps back, walking back and forth in front of her over and over. “I’m very curious as in how you think this is going to work out for you. Your husband left you for almost five years now, he only came back to you because I ordered him to, and you think he’s going to save you? He doesn’t give a damn! What do you think _your Bucky_ is going to do, huh? He clearly doesn’t care, he can’t even respect a damn deadline to save your life.”

“He will be here.”

“God, love really is blind,” he chuckles low. “You only have a few minutes left. The only reason I haven’t killed you yet is because I’m a man of my word. And because I love to watch people squirm and bargain their way out of dying when they know their time is running out. Would you like to make an offer?”

She swallows slow and breathes with her mouth open for a couple of seconds before she growls, “Fuck you.”

The man brings his hand down on her cheek hard, making her head shoot to the side violently, her teeth clinking together. The blood fills her mouth again and she feels it coming down her nose very slowly after she spits. John picks her head up and holds her by the jaw so she’d look at him.

“He will kill you,” she laughs once before he says anything, the air leaving her body in a shaky breath as she tries hard to smile through the pain. She looks at him dead in the eye and says, “And if he doesn’t, _I will_.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes in exasperation. He mumbles something like _so damn frustrating_ but she barely registers it over the ringing in her ears. He lets go of her and looks at the blood on his fingers in disgust, but this time he just wipes his fingers in his pants. He turns away from her, walking to the small table where he had placed his jacket to fish for his phone and she catches a glimpse of sunlight coming in through the window. She feels calm then, her body relaxing in the chair, and she laughs. She laughs and laughs until John’s staring at her like she’s a crazy person.

“You really think I can’t break free from this,” she states, looking at her hands tied lazily in the chair with old rope. Of course they’d use the big chains on Bucky, he’s the one John’s really afraid of. And of course, he’d underestimated her. It’s been a long and hard road back to herself with endless hours of training after the break in, and she’s full on cracking up when she says, “Oh, God. You really do think my boys have left me here to die.”

John looks at the man standing behind her confused, as if asking what the hell is going on. And that only makes her laugh harder.

“I’m right where I’m supposed to be,” she continues in between laughs. “We knew where Fury was the second we walked into your office. Every computer and phone in the room was scanned while we were all comparing dick sizes—you don’t even have to actually hold the device anymore these days, being in the same room is enough.”

John’s face turns red and he signals the two man behind him to leave the room, and she howls with laughter. 

“And now that you’re so focused on your precious shipment coming in and the hopeless wife act, the _Avenging kids_—as you called them earlier—probably got Fury out by now,” she grins hard, watching him pace around nervously now, his hands tapping desperately on his phone, waiting for any updates. She smirks then, crossing her legs and bats her lashes at him as if she were sitting at a bar, trying to get picked up by him, “Do you like my dress? Red definitely is my color. How about the gorgeous tiny gold accent around my waist, did you notice that? Of course you didn’t, men never pay attention to those things. Anyway, that little thing is the reason my husband and every damn agent in the _world_ knows exactly where I am. And you’re right, time _is_ running out, would _you_ like to make an offer?”

John takes a step back, speechless. When he recovers, he turns around and starts barking orders at his crew, who scatters around quickly, making themselves busy as quickly as possible. 

The ringing in her ears grows louder when she finally sees the man who broke into her house. He smashes a cigarette butt against the wall as he walks inside when he hears the yelling and sees the rest of the crew moving everywhere. When his eyes finally look up and find hers, everything goes quiet. She smirks and the gesture only grows as she sees confusion furrow his eyebrows, the blood covering her face and falling down her neck makes her look wicked.

“Well, hello, handsome,” she calls out, refusing to look away. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

The man walks straight towards John but his eyes keep turning back towards her. He leans over to whisper something in John’s ear and the words get stuck in his throat when a bomb goes off and they can hear gunshots outside the warehouse. She laughs loud at John’s face and he doesn’t have time to react—there’s agents everywhere. For every one of John’s men there were two agents. John watches it all unravel and she doesn’t realize there’s someone next to her freeing her hands from the chair until he’s helping her stand up. 

Her chest feels light when she finally sees Bucky storming in, ready to rip John apart.

“What did I say?” Bucky yells, walking towards John. He grabs him by the neck and drags him all the way back to the wall. “What the fuck did I say?!” Bucky yells again, shaking and slamming him against the wall again. “I told you nobody fucking touches my wife!”

She swallows a laugh, running the back of her hand through her mouth and once she’s sure her legs won’t give up, she makes her way towards her own target. The man had already been held down by an agent who had handcuffed him and another one who took his gun. She’s in his space in no time, using all that’s left of her strength to punch him wherever her hands can reach. The first punch is right in the jaw, the second is on his stomach, and the third is on Bucky’s hand as he closes it around her fist and pushes her back towards his chest. He closes his arms around her torso, pining her arms down, and moves her away from him, motioning with his head at the two agents to take him away.

“I will kill you, you piece of shit!” 

She keeps yelling until the screams burn her throat and they turn into crying. 

“We gotta go.”

”You promised me,” she cries, trying to free herself from Bucky’s grip. “You _promised_ he’ll pay!”

”He will,” Bucky assures her, dragging her through the warehouse effortlessly. “But I need to make sure you’re safe.”

When Bucky finally lets go of her, they’re standing behind a row of boxes that covers them from the mess going on. She’s fuming when she turns to see him, but it all goes away when she notices he’s been shot in his right arm.

“I’m fine,” he brushes it off before she even has the chance to say anything. “Are you alright?”

“I need a gun.”

Bucky nods once, handing her his spare. He holds onto it a little longer, forcing her to looking up at him, and she just knows he’s just trying to make sure she’s calmed enough now to not get herself killed while trying to catch a specific scumbag.

“There’s only a handful of them left,” Bucky states, checking on his own gun. “They’ll run out of bullets soon. You can wait it out if you’d like.”

The look his wife gives him has him rolling his eyes and huffing, standing tall in front of her to walk out into the line of fire in front of her. They go in different directions once they step around the boxes, and she takes down two of John’s men and waits for an agent to handcuff them, pushing them out of the warehouse. 

It all happens so fast then, she doesn’t acknowledge it until there’s silence and she turns around in time to watch John get tackled by two agents, his gun dropping to the floor after one last bullet is shot. She’s distracted by a heavy hand falling on her shoulder, and it’s like she’s watching the world in slow motion when the ringing in her ears return. She watches the man’s mouth move but she doesn’t hear the words, she sees his eyebrows practically meet in the middle of his face as he frowns, his mouth turning upside down and then her eyes are following his hand as he points to the crowd. The agents move so she can see what’s happening and she can feel the pounding on her heart in her head when she finds Drums, shaking Bucky’s body laying on the ground. Drums’ face is red and she can see the veins of his neck popping out and shaking, and if she could hear anything, she could probably hear him screaming.

Sharpie’s face comes into focus in front of her. He holds her by the arms and shakes her hard, waking her up. She blinks once, twice, and at the third time she hears as the air leaves her body all at once and the faint sound of an ambulance in the distance. 

She holds onto Sharpie’s hands all the way until she’s kneeling in front of Bucky, who’s resting his head on Drums’ legs. She gives Drums’ hand a light squeeze and then her hands are hovering over Bucky’s body, clueless on what to do with them.

“Buck?” 

“I’m okay,” he sighs, trying to sit up.

He grunts as soon as he tries to move and stays put where he is. Besides the wound in his arm she had seen earlier, there’s two new bullet wounds in his chest. The hand he’s holding down to stop the bleeding shakes, and her hands land on top of his immediately. He grunts again at the new pressure but she doesn’t move, she only presses down harder. 

“Damn it, James,” she gets out in between sobs as she feels his blood on her hands. She swallows the lump on her throat and then, “You can’t come back into my life just to fucking leave me again.”

“We both know I’ll be good as new in no time,” he tries to laugh but its only air leaving his lungs without a sound. The blood has left his face already and he’s losing his strength by the way his grip loosens underneath hers. He forces his eyes open and whispers, “I love you.”

And she nods back at him because, “I know,” and they’re so stuck on each other it doesn’t feel like goodbye. But just in case it is, “I love _you_, baby.”

The corner of his mouth rises up for less than a second. He hears the sirens closer and closer and his wife crying before the world goes quiet.

✭ 

“Oh, you’re still alive.” 

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Bucky smirks at Drums. “I might really believe you don’t like me.”

Drums pushes himself inside the room then and Bucky doesn’t really need to hear him say it, he can see how scared he was in the way his smile drops and rushes to hug him.

“What happened to the arm?”

“Getting a new one,” he replies lazily after Drums steps away from his space. “Been about five years since anybody tweaked with it, apparently I’m getting a _lighter_ model.”

“Cool,” he smiles again, and this time there’s a hint of laughter as he sees the bandage on his right arm. “How’s the other arm?”

“It should be fine in a few hours,” he shrugs. A new thought suddenly hits him and he asks, “Where’s your brother?”

“Getting what you asked for. He should be here soon.”

And it is only a moments later than Sharpie walks in the room and runs straight towards Bucky’s embrace, holding him as tight as he can.

“Hold on,” he asks, his voice small and pleading as Bucky tries to push him off. He rolls his eyes and sighs in exasperation but doesn’t try to push him away again. “Buck, _you died_.” 

“Yeah, well it didn’t stick.” 

Sharpie laughs and steps away, fishing for something in his back pocket. 

He smiles bright as he announces, “Got what you ordered, boss.”

✭ 

When she walks in the room Bucky was staying at, she’s surprised to find Sharpie and Drums with big smiles on their faces and their hands behind their backs, trying to seem as innocent as possible.

“Oh, no,” she mumbles, closing the door behind her. “What did you do?”

“I’m hungry,” Drums states, staring at his brother. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” he replies, already halfway out the door.

She stands there for a second, confused. And then follows the sound of the water running all the way to the bathroom.

“Buck?”

“Baby?”

The door swings open and Bucky’s standing there with shaving foam all over the lower half of his face and a razor in his hand.

“Holy fuck,” she takes a step back, surprised. “You cut your hair?”

“Sharpie did, actually,” he replies, taking a step back inside the bathroom to look himself over the mirror. “He did a lot better than I expected.”

She leans on the doorframe and watches him try to continue shaving, his movements stiff and too slow. Bucky shoots her a glare when he hears her chuckle.

"Sorry. It’s been a while since the last time I saw you having a hard time doing… Well, anything.”

“This damn thing doesn’t let me move right,” he grunts, his arm barely moving as it’s trapped on the bandage.

“Would you like some help?”

He doesn’t really have to reply because she’s on his space right after she asks the question. She’s grabbing him by the shoulders and guiding him to sit on the edge of the bathtub. She steals the razor from his hand and moves his head backwards as softly as possible, so she can get to work. Very slowly and focusing all of her attention she moves the razor from his Adam’s apple all the way up, picking up where he had left off. 

“Good to see you out and about, Sir,” Bucky mumbles when his wife’s cleaning the razor with water.

Fury nods back at Bucky and half smiles when she steps in to give him a short hug. She comes back to her spot next to Bucky and goes right back to work.

“I’m surprised you haven’t killed him yet,” Fury jokes.

“I keep trying but nobody lets me get very far.”

Fury chuckles loudly.

“I heard you almost got murdered again because of me,” he tells Bucky and there’s something around the edges of his voice but Bucky can’t quite put his finger on it. “Just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Bucky’s eyes flicker to his wife then—her tongue is pocking out in between her teeth at the corner of her mouth, her eyebrows drawn together as she focus, her free hand holding his neck steady and the razor blade slides on his skin.

“I’m doing great.”

Fury smirks at him, and this time Bucky hears the gratitude and relief in Fury’s voice that they all made it home safe, “I’m glad you are, son.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“No, I’m the one who will forever be thankful to the both of you.”

« day sixteen » 

After everything was set and done, Bucky ended up staying at the tower for an entire week finishing paperwork and testing out his new arm (he wanted to go home, but he was strongly advised otherwise). Both Sharpie and Drums had stayed with him out of habit. They’d make fun of Bucky when he’d sigh loudly, saying how much he misses his wife. The boys, whoever, stopped by every day to visit her and all three of them would laugh at his expense. As a thank you for letting them stay with her, the boys went to the shelter and got her a new puppy. She cried for hours when the little fluff fell asleep on top of her legs the very first time. 

To keep herself busy while Bucky was gone, she got to work. There was a room in the first floor by the kitchen that she used as her office a long time ago, but now it was just her reading room. It’s the biggest room in the house, with long windows and a clear view of their backyard. She’s always loved it but it had always felt too big for only herself. The second time the boys came around that week and found her struggling with some boxes, they immediately offered their help. It wasn’t until the end of the week when she got to help them build her king size bed in that room that they asked what was going on.

“Well, I figured I can move down here so you guys can have your own room,” she shrugs, her hands trying to hold all of her pillows together to get them to the sitting chair in the corner that already had her comforter. “You can have your privacy but you’ll still be right next to each other.” 

She squeals when the brothers trap her in their arms and hug her tight and each one of them leaves a loud and wet kiss on her cheeks. 

It’s been an entire week since she had last seen Bucky. They had talked on the phone and sent each other little messages with the boys but there was still a lot left for them to figure out. Or at least, that’s what they thought until Bucky was finally free to leave the tower. 

He went straight to her.

He’s nervous when he knocks but it feels like he can breathe again when she opens the door with a smile. Bucky buries his hands in his pockets as she leans on the doorframe. The smile fades after a moment and he rehearses the words in his head one last time before he actually speaks up.

“The case is finally over. No loose ends. I won’t be sent out to missions anymore, I’ll mostly train the new agents so I’ll still get to have some fun,” he half smiles. When he sees that she’s not joining him, he sighs in defeat and looks at the ground for a second trying to find the strength to walk away from her. But the little piece of him that’s still clinging to hope forces him to say, “I’ll be around for a long time. Maybe we can train some newbies together.”

“You took the job already?” she asks and Bucky almost jumps out of his skin because he was not expecting her to say anything. 

He nods quickly, “As soon as I saw the office.”

“What?”

He shrugs, the half-smile back on his lips, “It’s right across from yours. I can see your desk from my window.”

And she’s laughing now while shaking her head and Bucky dears to hope he’s doing something right. That he’s actually going to get his life back. 

“You once told me you’d never ask me to quit, that you’d never ask me to stop doing something I love,” he adds after another silence, giving it his best shot. “But I want to come home, baby. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do for the past five years. I want to come to you.”

Bucky feels like crying when he sees his wife smile. She takes a step to the side so Bucky can see his boys waiving at him from the staircase. He’s not sure what to do then except clean the corners of his eyes before the tears make their way down his cheeks.

“Well,” Drums is the first one to speak. “Are you going to stand out there forever? You have to see our new rooms!”

“C’mon, Buck,” Sharpie waves at him, asking him to come closer. “We’ve been waiting for you for ages!”

“Thank you,” she adds in a whisper, patiently waiting for Bucky to react, “for coming home to us.”

“God. I love you,” he sighs in relief and then his mouth is on hers, his arms closing tight around her waist, pushing her closer to him. And there, right where he knows he’s always supposed to be, he’s glad that he’s finally made it home.


End file.
